The Grand Ellipse Part 32

"I understand, Master Underclerk," Girays murmured gravely. "You are an official of the Imperium, and you must perform your duty. I leave her with you, then." Apparently blind to the Grewzian's look of surprise, he turned toward the door.

"Don't you dare, you snake," Luzelle muttered. Producing a fistful of New-rekkoes, she slapped the notes down on the desk. "Here! They must be worth fifty grewzauslins or more, probably more. To prove my good faith. Master Underclerk, sir."

"Ah." The underclerk counted. "Good. I am convinced of your honesty. And your doc.u.ments appear valid." With an air of generosity he stamped and returned her pa.s.sport.

"Thank you, Master Underclerk," Luzelle forced herself to reply. "We will be on our way now."

"As you wish. Your efforts are useless, however. You will never overtake our Overcommander Stornzof, he is destined for victory. He is Grewzian, you see."

"Watch the gazettes," Luzelle advised. Together she and Girays departed the office of the Munic.i.p.al Authority.

Moments later they hurried out the front door, past the sentry, and down the steps to the sunlit town square, where Luzelle consulted her pocket watch.

"Eight-seventeen," she reported grimly, as they trotted along. "That little brute of an underclerk deliberately delayed us. Those Grewzians have no notion of fair play." She thought of Karsler Stornzof and the look in his eyes. "Most of them, at least. And it would have been a lot worse if you hadn't thought to bribe him. That was brilliant. But would you really have left me there just now?"

"We're in a race, aren't we?"

"But-"

"Faster." Girays quickened his pace. "Move faster."

"Can't," she huffed. "It's this carpetbag, it's clumsy-"

"Throw it away, then. I won't slow down for you."

"n.o.body's asking you to." She wouldn't discard her bag, she resolved. Not again. A labored spurt brought her to his side. Her breath was coming hard. "How-much-farther?"

Without troubling to answer, he altered direction, leading her off along some anonymous little lane terminating in a makeshift bridge of slime-slicked planks spanning a runnel thick with raw sewage. The neighboring dwellings were small and dirty, their leaf-thatched roofs blotched with black mold.

He knew where he was going, Luzelle a.s.sured herself. He'd said that he had memorized the best route, and Girays v'Alisante was not given to idle claims.

On he led across the bridge, along another garbage-strewn lane, and then the scene was improving, the lane widening, the neglected wooden houses giving way to larger structures, low slung, stoutly built, spotlessly clean, with long windowless walls. Grewzian, beyond question. Warehouses? If so, a good sign, for the wharves must be near at hand.

Another turn into a tight walkway squeezed between warehouses, and suddenly the way was blocked by the wall of an enclosed pa.s.sage linking two of the buildings. They halted.

"This is wrong." Girays frowned. "It's not on the map, it shouldn't be here."

"Could you have taken a wrong turn?" Luzelle took the opportunity to set her carpetbag down for a moment.

He did not deign to acknowledge the suggestion. "New construction," he decided. "The waterfront should be just on the other side. We'll have to go around."

"Is there any point?" She could not resist another glance at her watch. "It's eight thirty-two. We've missed it, Girays. That swine of an underclerk has scuttled us."

"Only if the Water Sprite Water Sprite embarked exactly on time. But how likely is that?" embarked exactly on time. But how likely is that?"

"Is the crew Grewzian?"

"If she's just five or ten minutes behind schedule, we can still make it. So pick up your bag and come along, or else I'll leave you here."

"I really hate it when you threaten threaten me." She picked up her bag. me." She picked up her bag.

He led her back the way they had come, out of the walkway and into the street, along the street to an intersection where they turned left to weave a path among the warehouses. The buildings all looked exactly alike, and presently she began to suspect that they were traveling in circles. She was on the verge of telling him so when they emerged from the warehouse wilderness to find themselves on Wharf No. 1, with the wide mud-colored Ygah rippling before them, the waterbirds swooping and screeching overhead, and a dizzying variety of boats moored at the dock. The crafts ranged in size from tiny native square-sail to modern transport vessel, and in shape from streamlined Grewzian patrol boat to squat Ygahri river-house, but nowhere among them did Luzelle spy anything resembling a commercial steamer. The Water Sprite Water Sprite, she recalled, was scheduled to depart from Wharf No. 12, several hundred yards downriver.

"This way." Girays was already moving.

She had to scramble to catch up with him. True to his threats, he was making no allowances for her, and now the bag she refused to relinquish was dragging like an anchor, but she managed to keep pace.

Wharf No. 4. She saw the sign, freshly painted in neat Grewzian characters, out of the corner of her eye as she pa.s.sed. She also noted an a.s.sortment of curious heads turning to watch the jogging progress of the breathless western couple, but there was no time for embarra.s.sment.

Wharf No. 7. Wharf No. 8. There was a st.i.tch in her side, and her arm muscles were in rebellion. The carpetbag began to slide from her sweaty hand, and she tightened her grasp almost spasmodically.

Wharf No. 10, and her spirits were rising, for she felt that they were going to make it. Girays had been right, as he so often was.

Wharf No. 11, and then there was No. 12 at last. And there was the Water Sprite Water Sprite, a serviceable-looking side-wheeler with a shallow bargelike hull, pulling away from the dock. The deep hoot of her whistle announced triumphant departure, very nearly on time.

A yowl of grief and fury escaped Luzelle. Sprinting to the edge of the pier, she stood there waving her free arm and shouting. She could see pa.s.sengers and crew on the deck watching and pointing at her, but the Water Sprite Water Sprite did not reverse course. Several inarticulate exclamations shot out of her mouth. did not reverse course. Several inarticulate exclamations shot out of her mouth.

Girays had followed, and now he stood beside her. Turning to face him, she demanded, "Make them come back!"

"How, exactly?" he inquired politely. "What do you expect me to do?"

"I don't know! Think of something! You're formerly-Exalted, you're used to ordering people around. It's in your blood-your grandfather had serfs serfs, didn't he?"

"Yes, but I didn't inherit any of them. Luzelle, calm down and face facts. We missed the boat, it won't come back, and there's nothing we can do about it."

"We have to think of something. Karsler Stornzof is certainly aboard that thing, and if we're ever to-"

"Stornzof isn't the only problem," Girays interrupted.

His flat tone warned her, and she unwillingly followed his gaze to the deck of the side-wheeler. One of the figures standing at the rail looked familiar. Not Karsler. Somebody shorter, darker, bulkier, dressed in florid foreign style. The pa.s.senger's voluminously cut, full-sleeved maroon shirt was unmistakable even at a distance.

"Porb Jil Liskjil!" she exclaimed. "I thought we'd left him behind in Zuleekistan. How could he have managed this?"

"Money," Girays replied succinctly.

"D'you think he bribed that sentry at the city hall? Or the underclerk?"

"It's a safe bet that he bribed somebody."

"It isn't fair." She resisted the impulse to shake her fist after the receding Water Sprite. Water Sprite. Jil Liskjil would only enjoy the gesture. "Not fair at all." Jil Liskjil would only enjoy the gesture. "Not fair at all."

"Perhaps not, but there's no point in agonizing over it. The next boat south leaves tomorrow morning, and we'll be aboard. Until then we're stuck here in Xoxo, which is not, contrary to all appearances, the end of the world. The race is far from over, and somewhere along the way the chance may come to catch up with-"

"No," she told him firmly. "No. Not good enough. I don't accept it."

"Fine spirit, but I'm afraid you haven't much choice."

"Yes I do."

"Really. Planning to swim downstream to Jumo?"

"If necessary, but I think there are better ways of getting there, which might have occurred to you if only you weren't quite so ready to give up give up and and give in- give in-"

"I'm ready to accept reality, a concept that sometimes eludes you," he snapped. "And if you've got some wild notion of traveling on foot through the jungle, then I can only conclude that your mental grasp is slackening by the moment."

"My mental grasp is just fine, but I wonder if the same can be said of your imagination," she suggested. "If you had any, you might have noticed that there are boats all over the place, most of them privately owned. And somewhere among those owners, there's someone we can hire to carry us downriver."

The moment the words left her mouth she was furious with herself, for Girays was regarding her with an expression of faintly surprised interest, and she could see that he thought her idea viable, in which case she should certainly have kept it to herself. She had just sacrificed a potential Elliptical advantage, and once again she had her quick temper and her loose tongue to thank for the loss.

"Private transport," Girays mused. "Not a bad idea. You are right, Luzelle-my imagination was asleep. I apologize for the way I spoke to you just now."

Almost worth the blunder just to hear him say so.

"Quite all right," she replied, suppressing every outward sign of satisfaction. She looked around. Boats everywhere. "Well-where should we start?"

"Which one takes your fancy?"

"I see any number of likely possibilities. This should be easy," opined Luzelle.

But it was not quite as easy as she expected.

So many of them moored and presently vacant. Others hopelessly unsuitable-too large for private hire, too tiny for pa.s.sengers, too alarmingly decrepit. They went first to a clean, freshly painted, beautifully maintained little packet, whose spit-and-polish westernized native skipper expressed perfect willingness to carry them as far as Nishq'tla Camp, the last port of call along his usual route-but not a mile farther.

"Too far to Jumo," the skipper explained in excellent Vonahrish. "Too dangerous for small boats, and the large merchant steamers aren't available for private hire, unless you can afford a price of thirty thousand New-rekkoes or so."

Luzelle and Girays looked at each other. Both had money, but not that much.

"Pa.s.senger boat stops at Xoxo Wharf Number Twelve tomorrow morning," the skipper informed them. "But no, now that I think of it, I heard today that the Waterweed Waterweed ran aground north of Flewn's Bend. Day after tomorrow, you should be able to book pa.s.sage." ran aground north of Flewn's Bend. Day after tomorrow, you should be able to book pa.s.sage."

"We can't wait that long," Girays told him, and they walked on along the dock.

The next four captain-owners they approached proved similarly negative. A fifth, speaking only Ygahri dialect, looked eager and interested until they succeeded in communicating their needs.

"Jumo," Luzelle directed distinctly. She pointed south. "JUMO TOWNE."

He understood her. He grunted, shook his head, and turned away. They moved on.

Lowering their sights, they tried a couple of the smaller boats, whose owners refused the commission at any price. Overhearing this, the native owner of a dugout canoe sidled near, proposing to paddle them all the way down the Ygah to the Nether Ocean and beyond in peace and safety, should the G.o.ds bless the venture.

"The G.o.ds willing, I shall paddle you to the stars," he promised with a demented grin.

"We will consider your offer," Luzelle told him, and realized that she meant it. They moved on.

Another three refusals in a row, and her initial a.s.surance waned. She was feeling the weight of the carpetbag again, and discouragement was heavier yet.

"Maybe we should think about that dugout," she said.

"No we shouldn't," Girays returned. "Impractical. Also I didn't like the look of the owner. I think he may be deranged."

"He is," rumbled a ba.s.s voice behind them, in Vonahrish. "Mad as a firestinker in springtime, that one. Wrecked as a rabid rodent, loony as a purple-p.i.s.sing prince. But Jhiv-Huze is not."

They turned to confront the speaker, a tall, ma.s.sive figure that seemed at first glance an overgrown native attired in the baggy trousers, loose tunic, and thong sandals typical of the Ygahri townsman. His long, elaborately plaited locks were threaded with gla.s.s beads and wooden rings, his face blue with intricate designs. Closer inspection discovered pale freckled skin behind the tattoos, grey eyes glittering in the shade of deep sockets, and grey-streaked carrot-colored hair winding among the countless ornaments. A westerner, unmistakably.

"You are in luck today," the stranger continued, his fluent Vonahrish laced with flat Kyrendtish vowels. "Jhiv-Huze has overheard your conversation, he understands your problem, and it is your good fortune that he is here to solve it. Roupe Jhiv-Huze, at your service, is an experienced river pilot, owner and captain of a spanking little steamer available to carry you south to Jumo Towne for the trifling sum of one thousand New-rekkoes. Sir and Madame, be content. Your troubles are at an end."

"Indeed." Luzelle eyed the stranger narrowly. She noted pinpoint pupils, telltale yellow stains about the lips, and an air of manic buoyancy; all cla.s.sic signs of maruki influence. The natives of the region, she recalled from her reading, were widely devoted to the use of marukinutu marukinutu, a beverage infused from the podlike fruit of the maruki tree. In its milder forms the drink exerted a pleasantly tonic effect. Stronger infusions produced a.s.sorted symptoms ranging from exhilaration to euphoria, while protracted use of the infamous, highly addictive version known as maru-tcho maru-tcho induced eventual madness. She glanced at Girays and saw her own reservations mirrored in his eyes. induced eventual madness. She glanced at Girays and saw her own reservations mirrored in his eyes.

"Mmm, yes." Captain Jhiv-Huze rumbled a chuckle. "Private transport downriver is not so easily obtained, as you have no doubt discovered. But Roupe Jhiv-Huze is in an expansive mood, br.i.m.m.i.n.g with philanthropy and eager to share in his contentment. Today he is disposed to generosity. Therefore he places himself and his vessel at your disposal. He is ready to leave at once. This very moment. He trusts you will not delay. Come, let us be off."

"We thank you, Captain, but your services will not be required," decreed Girays.

"Wait, I'm not so sure-" Luzelle began.

"Jhiv-Huze understands. You have made other arrangements." The captain nodded benevolently. "No doubt you embark within the hour."

"We are investigating the possibilities."

"They are myriad, sir."

"Girays, may I have a word with you? In private?" Luzelle requested sweetly. Grabbing his arm, she dragged him off a few yards along the dock, then turned on him to demand in a heated undertone, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Forestalling disaster," he replied. "That fellow is unreliable. I will not place our lives in his hands."

"We haven't any choice."

"You don't understand. There's a local stimulant that affects the intellect and powers of judgment-"

"Yes, I know all about the marukinutu marukinutu, and you're you're the one who doesn't understand. We have to get out of this place, Girays! At least I do. Right away, right the one who doesn't understand. We have to get out of this place, Girays! At least I do. Right away, right now now, at any cost, and I can't afford to pick and choose. If this Jhiv-Huze person has a boat capable of carrying me to Jumo, then I don't care what he's been drinking."

"You'll care when that drug-addled loon wrecks his boat on the rocks and spills you out into a beetle-infested river. The local aquatic beetles are carnivorous, you know. They swim in schools like fish, and they can strip a body down to the bone in a matter of minutes."

"Killer beetles? That's picturesque. I've underestimated your powers of invention."

"Invention has nothing to do with it; I'm stating literal fact. That tattoo-riddled Kyrendtish inebriate over there isn't fit to pilot a rowboat, and I won't allow you to-"

"Allow. Now there speaks the old Girays that I remember so well. I wondered how long it would take him to show his face."

"This is hardly the time or place to resume old quarrels. If I've offended you, that's regrettable, but you must understand that I speak out of genuine concern for your wel-"

"Yes, that was always your justification for every sort of domineering presumption-that it was all for my own good. Well, I thank you for your 'genuine concern,' but I'm quite capable of making my own decisions. My decision now is to book pa.s.sage aboard this Kyrendtish fellow's boat. If you want to accompany me, then pick up your bag and come along, or else I'll leave you here. Sound familiar?" Feeling triumphant, she turned and flounced away. She heard him mutter a curse, but no sound of his footsteps on the wooden wharf behind her, and doubt invaded her mind. Maybe he really would would let her go off alone, maybe he would stay behind to continue the search for another and possibly superior conveyance. Well, let him. So much the better, she a.s.sured herself. He might search until sunset for another boat without finding one. He might end up waiting another two days for the next available commercial steamer. Yes, he was welcome to stay behind, quite welcome. let her go off alone, maybe he would stay behind to continue the search for another and possibly superior conveyance. Well, let him. So much the better, she a.s.sured herself. He might search until sunset for another boat without finding one. He might end up waiting another two days for the next available commercial steamer. Yes, he was welcome to stay behind, quite welcome.

She halted before the ma.s.sive tattooed figure. "Captain Jhiv-Huze-" she began.

"Ah, you are ready to embark!" The yellow-stained grin flashed amid blue tattoos. "A very wise decision, Madame. Mmm, yes. Very wise."

"You are really prepared to undertake such a long trip on such short notice?"

"For a thousand New-rekkoes, all things are possible."